No Matter How The World Will Tear Me Apart

Updated: Sep 19, 2020

But on this yoga mat where I find my sanity



So I hear the politic clown with the lousy hair might once again be your reelected president. Go ahead, write down your melancholy because it’s your god damn country. Channel your frustration. The world deserves your grievous last battle of the nation that was once great and blessed. The rest of the world is watching you while suffering from the illness.


Jobs have long gone here on my end. Steady incomes are now a distant memory. Amidst the unprecedented world, opportunely veganism has saved me from bankruptcy and panic buyers. The last time I checked out my bank account, the digits have shrunk into the profound obscurity. I let and watch them go because the only thing that pleases me right now is reading stories in Medium. They’re confident and secured. They seem young or youngish, but wise of the wisest. In their profiles, successes glorify their status. There’s PhD turned professional advisors, developers, environmentalists, philanthropists wannabe, tech consultants, award-winner entrepreneurs. The list goes on until you realise Elon Musk, who expands humanity to outer space — just because he can, is their newfound god.


They’re assertively advising on how to earn more money because the rest of us, the needy writers will be hooked into tips to beat the beaten path of writing failures; hopes arise, your dreams are back on track, you reset, and restarting your writing goals. Tips are spewing through words like mantras of ancient spirituality. Keep scrolling down and clap my story — in the end, they hope you to do so. Bliss!


Now I don’t even know what listicles are and how they are different from testicles because one said in Medium, I’ve been masturbating wrong all these times, all my life! Oh dear, they even teach you how to masturbate because self-pleasure is the new genre in fantasy writing. Oh and so I heard dating at the thirties are so challenging — being younger than forty seemingly, really suck. She hasn’t tried dating at the sixties though.


Because your writing sucks, ‘sit and read my success stories,’ wrote the writing guru. He wants me to read it so that he could make his mine, but how is it possible? I am not him, and he’s not me. I am not even white like he is, with no doctorate, and a daddy with a goody, with the persona of whiteness to travel to Asia spreading Western inspirations. But what can you write? You didn’t go to Harvard, neither you can write another writing advice blog. You’re just a local barista who just lost your job, and occasionally write travel stories while the world has stopped you from travelling.


But I’m going to stop me right there. I don’t need your tips to earn money from writing. I don’t need your advice on how to hack this life. No matter how your grandmother’s advice will change everyone’s lives, I don’t need advice from a strange old lady. I don’t need to read your success stories of entrepreneurship. The world has got so many promises flying in the air right now; travel bubbles, vaccines. Enough with the cynicism, distrust, and gloom.


I am not going out not only because viruses airborne each corner of the space, but the world has also gone into chaos — Medium got it all covered so that you can shake your belief, whatever it might be. The world beyond is abundant of irrationality that feeds fear.


Alone on this yoga mat, I want to learn how to breathe correctly, not masturbating appropriately — I wish I could breathe three or four breaths a minute like a turtle so I could reach out longevity. I measure success from how much strength I can bare on these two feet on the ground. My entrepreneurship is to harvest consciousness each time I close my eyes because it is the roots of compassion. Meditation is the money I pay each time anxiety clouding my headspace.


On this yoga mat, I found sanity. I found an inner strength while the rest is trying to tear me apart. Success is when you can travel back through your heart to see your actual existence in the universe. The only advice I need is from the universe, sitting quietly, listening to the utter silence.


Silence is what the world needs right not.


Originally posted on Medium

2017 Doody Richards
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